Beauty's Isolation
by Redrum
Summary: PUT ON HOLD: AU. A man name unknown yet. buys a young boy, for reasons still unknown. The boy's past 'master' comes back and tells of wanting the boy back. Please read and review. : Sure to be an interesting read... Hopefully.
1. The Prisoner

I am going to try to make this into a longer fic then my other ones. Hopefully this will please as many readers as my other story, "The Lion's Tears" did. :)  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own FF8, Squaresoft does.   
This is an AU fic, and I am planning on taking this into a S/S. If you don't like that kind of stuff don't read it.  
  
"talking"  
~*~*~ POV change.  
  
  
  
Beauty's Isolation  
  
Chapter 1: Meeting the prisoner  
  
Icy blue eyes opened to vast darkness. Blinking rapidly his eyes adjusted to the blackness. Looking around he saw empty chains lining the dull cement walls, he could faintly see streaks of some kind of sticky liquid dripping from the walls.   
  
He tried to stand up but found that he could not move. Looking down he saw that his ankle was tied in a steel chain which was nailed to the ground, preventing movement. Shivering from the coldness of the damp cellar floor he wrapped his arms around himself, trying to trap whatever heat he had inside. He was close to blacking out again from sheer exhaustion when he heard voices from beyond the cellar doors.  
  
"We just received a very small shipment, but very fresh and ripe for the picking."  
"How many?" The voices grew louder as they neared. Heavy footsteps approaching the cellar.  
"One, we would have more but it appears the numbers have gone down due to more demand." The voice sounded with sorrow at such a small shipment.   
The dazed and confused boy hung his head as he felt the their presence at the cellar's entrance.  
"I want a closer look at him, I see nothing but shadows." Keys jingled as the heavy metal door was opened. The boy trembled as he heard the two pairs of footsteps approach him.  
  
~*~*~  
"He looks so young.." The man kneeled down in front of the boy.   
He could barely make out his face in the darkness but the boy looked effeminate and young.  
"He's 19, he just looks very young for his age. Most clients want that, of course if your not satisfied I can always show you the other teenagers that look more their age." The man sighed as he grew tired of being in this cellar, he had seen enough and he knew what he wanted.  
"I will have this one, how much?"  
"$200."  
"Done. Now hurry up and unlock him from the chains so I can go home before the sun sets, I do not have all day."  
"I hope you will be please with--" The rest of their conversation was lost to the boy as he blacked out.  
  
tbc.. ? maybe  
  
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-Redrum. This fic was inspired by a picture I saw of Squall and Seifer. I hope I have enough ideas in my head to come up with the next chapter. :)  
Please read and review. I take all your comments to heart. 


	2. Raging Thunderstorm

Disclaimer: Same as chapter 1.  
This is really short and I'm sorry, but I really had to get this out of the way before my writer's block took over. I'm open to any suggestions to what you would like to see happen next. :)  
  
  
'When is he going to wake up?' He had been pacing the plush white carpet for quite some time now, waiting for the beautiful boy to wake up. When he had brought him home he had been hoping to talk to the boy, or at least ask him of his name. But instead he had found the boy passed out when he had finally ended his conversation with the foul smelling dealer.  
  
Finally growing impatient he opened the bedroom door to find the boy tossing and moaning in his sleep. Black satin sheets tangled around the boy's fully clothed figure, as his body thrashed from side to side. Nearly falling out of the king sized bed.   
  
Making his way over to the bed he looked down upon the pathetic form.  
Deathly pale skin contrasting sharply with the black sheets, auburn hair in dismay, silky stands falling across closed lids. He had yet to see the boy's eyes, but he suspected them to be a dull brown as most brunettes were. Placing a leather clad hand on the boy's shoulder he was shocked to see the brunette's eyes fly open in alarm. The man was even more surprised that the boy did not have the dull eyes of what was suspected but rather, a raging thunderstorm in their depths. Grey mixed with blue, both swirling for dominance. And far more beautiful a sight then any thunderstorm the man had ever encountered.  
  
  
-Redrum  
Please R/R 


	3. Years Wasted

Disclaimer: Same as previous chapters.   
  
Notes: I know I leave it off kind of suddenly but I just had to post it to get it out of the way so I could try to begin writing again. Thanks for reviewing if you did, and plan on it. :)  
And special thanks to rarukuchan;s review. I'm glad to hear you think my stories are poetic. I try. *tear* :) And thanks to Jonny Boy for reviewing each of my chapter. I can't wait to read some more of you poems. :)  
  
  
  
Chapter 3-  
  
The boy remained quite as the blond man regarded him. The man seemed so intent on looking him over that his gaze flickered too.   
Wisps of unruly golden locks hung from the man's ageless forehead, refusing to cooperate with the rest of the golden hair that was slicked back away from the chiseled face. Jade green eyes that he had already memorized flickered underneath pale thick eyelashes. His gaze moved freely to just below the man's face, he found a silver collar around an over muscular neck, a lose fitting grey shirt hung of the man's broad chest, his eyes dared to look further but a deep throated chuckle brought him up from his momentary daze.   
His gaze flew back to the man's cat like eyes, to find that the blonde had been watching him. He felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment but being so self-controlled he was sure only a flicker of colour remained on his pale cheeks. Unfortunately being born with such ghost like skin any flush was easily seen on his face, causing the blonde man to laugh out loud. And for the boy to look down in shame and embarrassment.  
"My, aren't we the shy one." The man laughed harder as he saw the brunette's face go slightly redder. Controlling his laughter the man looked down to the brunette again. Auburn hair hid eyes that the man had already memorized to the state that the thunderstorm eyes were imprinted into his mind when ever he closed his eyes. Pitiful really..  
"You don't talk much do you?" The blonde regarded the boy silently as he sat down next to him on the soft, comfortable bed. He couldn't help but notice the boy tense as the blond got closer to him. He wondered if this boy was truly 'fresh' like the dealer had said, or if he had, had a master before himself. The way the brunette acted so skittish one would think so. He may as well start asking questions seeing as how the brunette didn't look like he would be talking on his own any time soon.  
"How long were you in that cell?" There was a long pause as the blonde waited for an answer. He was starting to doubt that this boy could talk at all until he received a quite reply.  
"Four years, five months, one week and three days." The man felt sympathy for the boy to have been in such a place for so long. But thinking back he remembered the dealer saying the boy was 'fresh'. So how could he have been there that long?  
"Did you have any other owners?" The blonde asked the boy, hoping for a no. Most 'owners' besides himself were very rough when it came to their... purchases.  
The man waited in silence until the brunette finally decided to answer him.  
"Yes... just one other. I was with him for two years but then I was returned to the 'cell'." The blond looked sad as he thought of the young boy missing so many years of his life. The man wanted to know more about the boy, for mild curiosity and to hear the voice that sounded like the boy could sing if put in any effort. He realized suddenly that he still did not yet know the boy's name.  
"If its not to personal would you mind telling me your name?" The boy regarded the floor as if contemplating his answer before replying 


	4. Innocence

"Bond. James Bond." J/K. I hated that movie anyway. :) Well on with the notes and the long awated chapter 4 of my 'poetic' story. lol :)  
  
Disclaimer: Don't own nothing. Squaresoft seems to like being greedy. ;)  
  
Notes: Thanks again to the reviewers. I'm starting to find it pretty hard to write a long fic with a angst plot. I don't know how Darksquall or Persephone do it. ;) Please, if anyone has some ideas, please e-mail me. email address is in my profile thingy. ;)  
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Chapter 4- Innocence  
  
"Squall.... Squall Leonhart." The boy.. Squall responded timidly. As though afraid to speak of his real name. His last master must of really terrified him.. how sad.  
"I'm Seifer Alsmay. Your name sounds very mysterious." The man grinned as Squall blushed like a little school girl. Such innocence. And from a slave no less.   
"Do you know your last master's name?"   
"...Jake." Squall didn't really seem to want to talk about the man so Seifer left it at that. Though he felt like he knew that name from somewhere. And the way his spine tingled when the name was spoken the man was probably bad news.  
"So.. you feeling better?" When Seifer had carried the brunette to his room he'd found hand shaped bruises on the lithe body. There were also scars on the boy's back that looked to be from a whip or some other tool. He had also noticed that some appeared to be fresh. Probably from that horrid dealer..  
"What?" Squall looked puzzled as he gazed up into the blonde's face.  
"Your cuts and bruises. Are you okay?"  
Squall took a moment to answer. He appeared deeply confused, and a faint tint of fear was in his grey-blue eyes. He probably wasn't use to master's being so... nice.  
"I'm fine." He replied curtly. Seifer sighed as he sat down beside the timid boy. The latter flinching as soon as Seifer's skin made contact with his. The blonde shook his head at the boy's antinks.  
"You would think you'd be use to human contact by now."   
"Who says I'm not use to it? Just because I am dosn't mean I like it." Seifer was shocked to hear Squall saying that. Most of the 'slaves' he usto have all seemed to like physical contact, that or they never made a protest to it like Squall did. He wondered why Squall was different from the others. Maybe his last master was so horrible that he had come to this conclusion on his own. That would explain the coldness that Squall's grey-blue eyes possessed.   
  
  
~tbc~  
  
AN: I apoligize for the shortness of my chapters but I can't seem to think of anything to write after awhile. I think I mite need some sort of insperation. I have a clue as to where I'm going I just don't know how to get there. -_-  
So if you can find the time, please e-mail me some suggestions or ideas. :) Greatly appreciated.   
  
-Redrum  
forever_lone_Wolf@hotmail.com 


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